So today I watched the second part of The End of Time, the Doctor Who story in which David Tennant bows out of playing the tenth Doctor, and Russell T. Davies bows out of being the main scriptwriter.
I have to say that I have mixed feelings. Kudos to Davies for successfully rebooting the whole Doctor Who story universe, and Tennant for being a good choice for the Doctor. But having said that, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that, for the most part, this series finale showed up the weaknesses of Davies’ writing.
The first part struck me as though Davies was doing an awful lot of gleeful vamping of plot elements in order to build up to that awful pun uttered by The Master near the end. It was almost as if he had started with that pun and worked backwards from there.
The second part left me largely unmoved in directly inverse proportion to the amount of mayhem that was being portrayed on the screen. Only the quieter moments, and the elegaic farewells to other characters of past storylines in the closing minutes seemed to be worthy of the event. Bernard Cribbins, in particular, was a joy to watch.